Sparks Fly
by Iugulare Mortuos
Summary: [Discontinued/Rewrite in Progress] The kid was broken; that much was obvious. Tony could see it everywhere: from the constant shadow of suspicion in his eyes to his insistence that he didn't need their pity. And it killed him to think that there was nothing he could do. Sometimes, the hardest lesson to learn is that you can't help someone who doesn't want your kindness.
1. Chapter 1

Taking a swig of his drink, Tony contemplated how he'd ended up in this shady little nightclub at two in the morning. Ever since the Chitauri attack, he'd been frequenting his favorite bars and clubs less and less, instead opting for obscure dives in neighborhoods where he could hope nobody would recognize him.

Tonight, he had chosen Club Impulse.

He'd almost laughed at the name, lit up in an electrifying shade of blue beside the door. It was years ago he figured out that the name of a club gave you a pretty good idea of what you'd find inside. Club Impulse was no different; alcohol and smoke and lust saturated the air while the techno rhythm drowned out all but the loudest patrons. Tony enjoyed clubs like this for the same reason most detested them: it was too loud to hear himself think. He could lose himself in the noise and heat and excitement of it all—pretend that nothing had changed since he was young and impulsive.

Someone sat beside him at the bar, beer in hand, a lazy, drunken grin on his lips. "First time here?" he called over the music.

Tony wasn't even aware he nodded until the man began prattling about his first time here, reminiscing about something he'd done to piss off the owner.

"Anyway, you get what I'm saying."

No, Tony wanted to retort, I don't, because you don't make any sense. Instead, he nodded again, bringing the glass up to his lips as he finished his whiskey. He scanned the club again, blinking when he noticed the man lounging at the edge of the room, his arm wrapped around the waist of the younger man seated on his lap. They watched the patrons lazily, as if the atmosphere of a nightclub were no more interesting or exciting for them than a game of Solitaire.

Tony's new companion followed his gaze. "That's Avery, the owner. He's real particular about the kid on his lap." His next sentence sounded like some garbled version of "No one's even really sure if he's legal," but Tony wasn't exactly paying attention anymore.

Said kid leaned up, turning Avery's face towards him to give him a quick kiss before slipping into the crowd.

The track switched to one of god knows how many bad remixes the DJ had played tonight, and someone had the bright idea to switch on the strobe lights. Time to head out. Flashing lights had always triggered his migraines; it had only gotten worse since he came crashing back down to Earth. It seemed interdimensional travel did that to a man.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Tony braced himself against the bar stool, unsure if the sudden onslaught of nausea was from the alcohol or the pounding music. He didn't look at the newcomer. "I'm fine," he replied tightly. He pressed the heel of his free hand into his temple.

"I can ask someone to call you a cab."

"I said I'm fine." The words came out angrier than he intended, but perhaps he would be left alone now.

"Sir, you are not fine, and I'd rather not have another guest pass out because they're too stubborn to notice when they're clearly drunk-"

"I'm fine!" Tony let go of the barstool and turned towards the door. It wasn't that far to the car; he could just sit there and let JARVIS drive him back to the tower. His legs felt like they couldn't hold his weight, but he didn't want this stranger's help. He would be alright if he could just get to the door. The music felt too thick, too heavy, and he spent a second trying to figure out how that was possible before grabbing at the nearest solid surface because his knees decided to give out.

Instantly, it felt like his heart stopped. His grip went slack.

Next thing he knew, his head bounced off the tile and people crowded around him.

Moaning, Tony pushed himself up on his hands and knees, but it seemed to take longer than expected. His muscles felt weak, almost like he'd just run a marathon. This wasn't from alcohol; he knew that much.

The kid in front of him trembled, fingers digging into the flesh of his upper arms while he sank to his knees. If it weren't for the strobe lights still flashing overhead, Tony would have sworn he saw electricity crawling across the kid's skin. It was a trick of the light, conflated by his worsening migraine.

Finally, he could find enough strength to get back to his feet. He pulled the collar of his shirt down to check that the arc reactor was functioning at reasonable—he would say optimum, but he still wasn't sure what happened and what effect it had on his arc reactor—capacity. The glow of the fusion core was a bit dim, but other than that there appeared to be nothing wrong. Running his fingers through his hair, he heaved a sigh so deep that his chest actually hurt a little.

When he bent down to help the kid up, Avery grabbed his arm and leveled a cold glare at him. "Don't touch him," he growled, tightening his grip with each syllable.

"Is he okay?"

Avery pulled the kid upright and held him against his chest. "He's a little overloaded, but it's nothing that he can't handle." He breathed reassurances against the kid's hair as he held him close. After a minute, he looked back at Tony. "If you have questions, come on." He scooped the kid up into a bridal carry and walked to the door.

Still trying to figure out what just happened, Tony followed. Once they were outside, he opened his mouth to ask what was going on.

Avery cut him off. "First, names. I'm Avery Kingsley, owner of Club Impulse. This,"—he set the kid on his feet and brushed a stray lock of hair from in front of his eyes—"is Kelley. He helps out generally wherever he can. Best employee I've ever had." Kelley gave a little smile at that, tangling his fingers with Avery's.

Tony cleared his throat and introduced himself.

"I'm aware."

There was a quiet sort of malice in the man's voice that set Tony's teeth on edge. "What happened back there?"

"Kelley and I are mutants. Electricity-based powers." Avery waited for an acknowledging nod before he continued his explanation. "I generate excess electricity, while he absorbs and stores it. Unfortunately, Kelley isn't at the point where he can control what he absorbs from."

"I'm working on it," Kelley muttered almost defensively, his gaze locked on the ground.

Avery cast him a tender look. "I know, hon." He turned back to Tony, the steel back in his voice. "When you grabbed him, he absorbed the bioelectricity in your nervous system—and a little extra, considering that arc reactor of yours. You were only able to get up so quickly because of how brief the contact was; if it were any longer, your heart might have gone into fibrillation."

Kelley squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip as if fighting back tears.

Tony was silent as he mulled over this information. Something about Avery rubbed him the wrong way, but he could wonder about that later. Finally, he found the right words. "This isn't a safe environment for him."

Avery seemed caught off guard. He blinked for a few seconds. "Excuse me?"

Although Kelley's shoulders stiffened, he didn't bristle like the older man had.

"This is a nightclub, and if he can't have skin contact, it isn't a good environment for him to be in, much less work in. People don't watch their step. They're drunk, having fun, and it's not going to cross their minds that they can't grab at him if he's close." Tony dug in his pockets for his wallet, but his hands were still clumsy from the whiskey and Kelley apparently draining his bioelectricity. "He needs a better place to learn how to handle his powers, whether that's with SHIELD or with the X-Men."

"He's been doing just fine for the last six years with me here." Avery practically spat the words, ripping his hand from Kelley's to wrap it around the younger man's waist and yank him close. Kelley didn't protest. "I was lucky to have found him when I did, else he probably wouldn't have lasted much longer. You have no right to come here and take him away from me." His blue eyes grew brighter, and tendrils of bluish-white electricity rippled over his arms.

"It's okay!" Kelley exclaimed, panic edging his voice. He grabbed at Avery's hands, pulling them up to rest over his chest. "I'm not leaving you. I promise, I'm not leaving you."

The electricity died down, fading back into Avery's skin until it vanished.

Triumphantly extracting his wallet, Tony fumbled with the pockets until he found what he wanted. He cleared his throat and held the business card out to Kelley. "If you want more information, or if you just want to talk, go ahead and call."

Delicately, Kelley took the card. Only a slight nod indicated he had heard Tony.

Avery, however, again leveled Tony with a cold glare. "He won't."

"That's up to Kelley to decide." With that, Tony strode—or at least stumbled in the most dignified manner he could—to his car, flopped into the driver's seat, and not-as-politely-as-he-intended asked JARVIS to drive him back to the tower.


	2. Chapter 2

In the short time since he had been staying at the tower, Steve had gotten used a few things. One of the first things he had grown accustomed to was Tony returning from some new, obscure club only a few hours before dawn, blackout drunk. So when Tony slumped into the armchair beside him, silent and brooding, Steve couldn't help but wonder what had happened. He didn't press, though; Tony would talk about it in his own time. His curiosity could wait.

They sat in silence for about an hour, neither averting his gaze from whatever object they had found an excuse to stare at.

"I'm going to bed." Tony pushed himself up onto his feet, catching himself on the arm of the chair when he stumbled. Apparently he had enough alcohol left in his system to impair his balance. "JARVIS, alert me if we get any calls."

"Of course, sir."

Steve knew that Tony wouldn't head to his room for a while yet. Insomnia had plagued the both of them for months now, and Tony seemed to have the worst of it unless he nearly overdosed himself on sleeping pills. More often than not, when Tony said he was going to bed, he would sit in his lab for hours, fiddling with some little machine or other until he passed out at his desk. "Just as well," Steve mused as he trudged back to his room. "At least he's getting some sleep."

The door to the lab was open, and Steve merely gave a cursory once-over to check that his assumption had been right as he passed.

It had been.

Tony sat at his desk, his head resting in the palm of one hand while he turned a circuit board over and over in the other.

A fond, weary smile crossed Steve's face, and he shook his head. He liked this Tony—the Tony who was fallible, human, who didn't let himself get caught up in his public image during his private life. This Tony, he could get along with. This Tony, he could understand. This Tony, however, only existed on nights like this one, when neither of them could sleep and both found solace in the other's presence.

But this Tony existed, and that was enough for Steve.

He shut the door to his room behind him, leaving the lights off as he made his way to the bed. He knew the layout of this room by heart—a close, but not exact, replica of the bedroom in his apartment.

As much as the billionaire would deny it, Tony paid attention when his guests were talking. He had been careful about the way he designed their rooms after the destruction Loki had inadvertently wreaked on the penthouse, tailoring them for their assigned inhabitants. It had been an apology for his behavior during their forced team-up.

Steve wondered if the others saw what he did.

Tony was still rude, impatient, insensitive, and an all-around jerk, but he was making an effort to be better, even if it only showed in the small things.

Steve could appreciate that.

* * *

The afternoon proved to be wet and dreary, though the mist was incredibly useful in keeping Steve from overheating during his run. He peeled the soaked sweatshirt away from his chest as he made his way through the lobby of the tower. Normally, he would have taken it off as soon as he came inside, but it didn't feel quite appropriate considering that this was still partially an office building.

"Look, he asked me to call, but I don't have a phone, so I came here. I- I'm not expecting you to believe me; I just-"

"I'm sorry, but visitors aren't allowed past the lobby without an appointment."

Steve turned towards the front desk, stopping when he noticed the dripping, barefoot figure rocking back and forth on the pads of their feet as his spoke with the receptionist. His hands were buried in the pockets of the grossly oversized letterman jacket hanging off his shoulders.

"That's fine. I should be heading back, so it's not a big deal," he said, shrugging. His voice was thick with disappointment. "Just… Tell Mr. Stark I said thanks for trying."

Jogging over, Steve caught the sleeve of his jacket as he turned to leave. "Hey-"

The stranger whipped around to face him. "Don't touch me!" His blue eyes were wide, his expression halfway between anger and fear.

"You came to see Tony, right?" Steve released the man's sleeve, backing off a step when it was clear how uncomfortable he had made him. At the hesitant nod that followed, he continued, "I can take you up; he won't mind." He offered his hand. "Steve Rogers."

"Kelley." The man stared at his hand as if unsure what to do. Finally, he cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his ponytail. "Thank you," he murmured.

Steve started for the elevator, casting a glance back at Kelley to check that he was following. "Not a problem. I was heading up to the penthouse anyway." He swiped his keycard. "Can I ask what you want to talk to Tony about?" His curiosity was starting to get the better of him. Tony hardly had total strangers come asking for him, and even when they did, they never looked nearly as young as Kelley did. If Steve hadn't known better, he might have assumed the worst.

And even knowing better, it was hard not to.

Kelley appeared thrown by the question. He looked away and jammed his hands deeper in his pockets. "I ran into- That is, um, he ran into me, and…" He trailed off, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "That sounds bad, doesn't it? I work in a club- God, that's worse." Crossing his arms tight over his stomach, he turned his back to Steve. The jacket slipped down on his shoulders. "I should've listened. I shouldn't have come here. He knows better. Of course he knows better; he always knows better. I'm such an idiot." His shoulders shook, and he gave a tight, almost hysterical laugh.

"You don't have to tell me," Steve hastened, keeping his voice low and soothing. He reached out to give Kelley a comforting touch on the arm.

"Please, god, don't touch me," Kelley choked out, shrinking away from his hand. "I don't want to hurt you."

The thought of this scrawny, obviously malnourished man being able to hurt him seemed absurd, and Steve dismissed it, but he obligingly retracted his hand. They stood in silence the rest of their time in the elevator, Steve occasionally looking over at Kelley, who remained facing away. He sighed in relief when the doors slid open and nodded for Kelley to follow him.

"You're back early." Clint didn't look up from his paper, leaning more against Natasha, who merely rolled her eyes.

"It's getting a bit too wet out there for my taste," Steve replied absently as he scanned the room in search of Tony. When he turned to tell Kelley that they might find him in his lab, he found him still lingering in the doorway with an uncomfortable expression playing on his face. "Come on." He gave a beckoning wave.

At that, Clint looked up.

Natasha followed his gaze, a brow arched as she considered Kelley. "Who's this?" It really wasn't much of a question.

Steve waited until Kelley was beside him to answer. "Kelley. He came here to see Tony."

"Well, Tony's out with Pepper right now," Clint said, folding the paper and setting it beside him. "He'll probably be back in the next hour or so."

Having got up to inspect the newcomer, Natasha gave Kelley a curious—bordering on suspicious—once-over. "How old are you?"

"None of your business." The response was clipped. Kelley took a step back, the frown twisting his lips laced with annoyance. "My age isn't important to anyone but me." He brushed his hand through his hair again and flipped the waist-length ponytail over his right shoulder. "And if Mr. Stark isn't here, I should go. I've wasted enough time already, and I want to get home before dark."

Steve paused. "Did you walk here?"

"What's it matter if I did?"

The change in attitude was startling. At first, Kelley had been nervous and afraid, but suddenly he had become curt and evasive, suspicion evident in his tone. His jaw was set, his shoulders squared, like he had geared up for a fight the instant inquiries turned personal.

"Easy, I was just-"

"What? You were just _what?"_ Kelley hissed. He backed up another step. "I don't owe you anything—certainly not an explanation. I came here to talk to Mr. Stark, and he's not here, so I'm leaving before Avery figures out where I went. I don't need your concern. I walked here alone, and I made it just fine. I'm sure I'll make it just fine alone on the way back, thank you."

Taken aback by the sheer venom in the reply, Steve could only watch as Kelley spun on his heel and headed for the stairs.

Not a minute later, a sharp cry rang out, and he ran towards the sound. He was vaguely aware of Clint and Natasha on his heels as he stopped at the guard rail and looked down. Two flights down, Kelley was laying on his back on the landing, looking extremely pissed off at everything in general. His jacket was half off, the right sleeve bearing a new, rather large rip.

Steve made his way down and offered Kelley a hand.

Kelley simply swatted at it and sat up, glaring at his left ankle.

"Have a nice trip?" Clint asked facetiously. He leaned against the railing of the landing above them, trading a look with Natasha.

"I didn't trip," Kelley snapped. "I just lost my balance when my sleeve caught on a screw and landed wrong on my foot."

"Regardless of what happened," Steve interjected, "I don't think you're walking home on that ankle."

Kelley appeared about to argue, but he sighed and pulled himself up with the railing. "Fine." He leaned against the wall to take his weight off his bad ankle. "But I'll get back upstairs on my own. I don't need help."

Steve held his hands up. He watched Kelley slowly make his way up the stairs, wincing every time his left foot touched the floor. "Okay, but I'm here if you change your mind."

"I won't."


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how long he lived, Avery swore that he would never meet a more mentally exhausting mutant than Ajax. It was a wonder Avery had managed to put up with him for so long, even disregarding the murderous tendencies and penchant for human experimentation. However, while Ajax was simply exhausting, some of the characters he associated himself with proved to be intolerable.

"Where's your little boy-toy, Kingsley?"

If Avery heard that question one more time before he walked out the door, no one would leave this building alive. "At home," he snapped, his attempt at maintaining a level voice falling short. "It was a late night at the club."

Jared scoffed, having overheard the exchange.

"Do you want the information I have or not?" Avery clenched his hands into fists, fighting against the buildup in his chest. They were trying to get a rise out of him. Reacting would only give them more ammunition. But even despite his best effort, he could feel the electricity leaking through his skin as his frustration grew.

"No need to get all fired up." Ajax's smooth voice cut through the tension like a knife. He adjusted his sleeve cuffs and offered a teasing smirk. "We're all friends here."

Taking a breath to calm himself, Avery blocked out everyone else so that he could focus on Ajax. "Dragomir Manoliu. Twenty-eight years old, recently diagnosed with COPD. He's a low-level ferrokinetic, so his powers are still mostly subconscious, and about the most he can do on purpose is mess with piercings."

"Why would I want him?"

Avery pulled up Dragomir's contact info, selecting the photo. He held the phone out to Ajax. "Because," he said, voice low, "if he dies, his little brother goes into foster care, and he would do anything to prevent that."

Ajax nodded approvingly. "Anyone else?"

"James Davidson, better known as Jamie Davidson." Avery took back his phone, flipping to the picture he had snuck of the man. "He's a neuroscience major with stage three lung cancer."

"Mutant or human?"

"Mutant, from what I can tell. His roommate calls him Danger Magnet." Honestly, Avery wasn't sure if Jamie was a mutant or just an extremely unlucky human. It didn't really matter either way; Jamie was desperate enough to believe whatever Jared told him, and he was in relatively good shape. Ajax could use him, mutant or not. "He seems to attract mutants, especially higher-powered ones, while repelling humans. Poor kid's seen more than his fair share of superhuman violence because of it."

Inspecting the picture, Ajax considered what he'd been told. "How old is he?"

Avery thought back to his last conversation with the med student. "Twenty-five or twenty-six."

"Awful young to have lung cancer."

"Angel Dust." The name tasted foul on his tongue. He didn't turn to face her. She'd just walk around him anyway; she never strayed far from Ajax's side these days. "Nice to see you taking a break from bench-pressing boxcars."

She laughed, the sound dark and deep in her throat. Sure enough, she walked into his line of sight, a gloved hand resting on her hip. "What happened to the arm candy, Hertz? Finally get bored of him?"

The electricity wound up tighter in his core, the urge to release it growing almost unbearable. Still, he held it back. This was exactly why he should have brought Kelley. They knew his powers were tied to his emotions, and they always did everything in their power to make him lose control. "That's not my name, and you know it." His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

"Kids, play nice."

At that, Avery snapped back to reality.

"Don't pay attention to him; he's just being a little bitch, like always." Angel Dust crossed her arms, leveling him with a knowing stare. She wasn't fazed by the sparks crackling from his fingertips.

God, Avery hated his sister. He released some of the electricity, letting it arc to the ground in a display of his capabilities. "At least my powers are natural," he hissed.

"I could snap you in two."

"You'd be dead before you ever laid a hand on me."

"Avery, Christina!" Ajax stepped between them. His hands twitched as he held them up; another outburst from either of them, and he probably would have gone for his tomahawks. "Your sibling rivalry can wait." He turned to Avery. "Anything else for today?"

Avery shook his head, keeping his mouth shut because he knew that no matter what he tried to say, it would come out as a dig at Angel Dust. It was in his best interest to simply take his payoff without another word and head home. That in mind, he headed for the door. His thoughts wandered to Kelley and what he would be amusing himself with back at the apartment while he waited for Avery to return. Though, in all honesty, Kelley would probably still be sleeping. If left undisturbed, that boy could sleep for days.

"By the way, I know you don't leave Kelley home for no reason." When Avery turned back, his nails digging into his palm as he stifled a biting retort, Ajax offered a half-hearted shrug as if to say that he was simply trying to make conversation. "What's got you all possessive this time?"

"Suffice to say that Tony Stark can't leave well enough alone."

* * *

Rapping his knuckles on the door frame as he entered, Avery scanned the living room for the other mutant. "Come on, Kelley," he called almost teasingly, "you can't just sleep all day; we have things to do." The air in the apartment felt dead, the usual static in the air replaced with an unsettling emptiness that made him nauseous. There was some background electricity, but the massive concentration he had grown used to since he and Kelley started living together was missing. He started for the bedroom, forcing himself to keep his breathing steady even while his mind screamed at him that something was very wrong. "Kelley?"

His heartrate doubled. Kelley wasn't in bed, and his letterman jacket was gone. "No." Avery could hardly get the word out. "No, no, he can't do this. I told him no." Electricity collected in his chest as his body tried to use up the excess before he lost control. He clenched his hands into fists, fighting to keep the rush of electricity from escaping and setting the room ablaze. It pulsed beneath his skin, the bleed-through burning fine holes in his clothing.

"Kelley!"

Maybe he was in the other room. He wouldn't wander off without at least leaving a note for Avery to find. That in mind, the mutant tore through the apartment without regard for any flammable materials he may have inadvertently ignited. After a minute, he slumped against the door to the bedroom and rested his forehead in the palm of one hand.

Kelley had left his shoes here, something which he only did when he was in a hurry and couldn't be bothered to remember to put them on before leaving. That confirmed it: he had gone to see Tony Stark.

Avery's heartrate settled to a more acceptable range. "Stark can't handle him," he reminded himself. "His whole gig is tech, and Kelley's not compatible with that. Kid could drain the whole district if he touched the right wire; a few minutes knowing exactly what he's capable of, and Stark won't want anything to do with him." More importantly, perhaps, Kelley wouldn't be able to stand the idea of anyone taking pity on him for too long. It would quickly annoy him to have people offering their help and trying to draw him out of his shell.

He'd come back, fed up with Tony Stark and the bleeding hearts the billionaire associated with. He'd apologize incessantly, begging for attention to be sure that Avery still wanted him. Needy, desperate—that was how he always got when he thought he had done something to upset Avery.

"Keep it together. He'll come back."

And if he didn't, well, Stark had better watch his step. Avery did not take kindly to people trying to take Kelley away from him.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha still wasn't quite sure what to make of their guest. For the last ten minutes, he had been alternately banging his head on the back of the chair whilst cursing at himself, staring at his hands and looking annoyed, and anxiously muttering under his breath while looking at the floor, or some combination thereof. At the moment, he appeared to have given up, chin resting in the palm of one hand as he glared at the door. She turned to Clint and signed, 'Anything?'

'I've done everything I can without a last name.' He looked up from his tablet, scrunching up his nose to indicate his frustration. 'And I don't think he's going to give that up willingly.'

'What about the name on the back of his jacket?' Natasha cast a glance over at where Steve was fretting over Kelley and trying to get him to calm down before he injured himself. She shook her head, having already figured out that Kelley would rather almost anything than be told what to do by someone he had barely met.

'Dawson?' Clint's expression soured further, like he'd smelled something foul. He gave a quick shake of his head. 'Nothing. It's like he doesn't exist.' He passed over the tablet, flipping through page after page of results in SHIELD's database and the general internet.

She grabbed his hand as he was about to switch pages. "What's this?" Clicking the link, she scanned the article before passing the tablet back to Clint.

 _Family Holds Memorial in Honor of Missing Son_

'Could be a connection,' he admitted, 'but this kid went missing ten years ago, and no one ever got a lead on him. Besides, even the eye color is different.' Humming, he skimmed the article further. He was about to sign something when Steve's exclamation of "Careful!" made them both look up.

"Shit, shit, shit." Kelley flailed around a bit as he tried to get the chair back on all four legs, coming dangerously close to kicking Steve in the face. After some fussing from Steve as he tried to figure out how to help without touching Kelley, the chair ended up safely back on the floor. "Thanks," he said, awkwardly shuffling further back in the chair and pulling his legs up under his body.

Clint tapped her shoulder, nodding back in Kelley's direction when she looked at him. 'Look. Between his temple and jaw—that's an awful lot of scars.'

Natasha tilted her head, squinting against the light to get a better look at the five or more thin, almost perfectly straight scars across the side of the young man's face. The way they faded evenly into the rest of his skin at the edges suggested that they were from quite some time ago. When Kelley turned to face her, the downward twist of his mouth showing his confusion and annoyance, she nodded towards his left leg. "How's your ankle doing?"

"It'll heal." There was clearly something he wasn't letting on about, if the vaguely frustrated edge to his voice was any indication. "God, I should have left already," he muttered, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He heaved a sigh, put his feet back on the floor, started to get up, and smiled when his ankle took his weight without buckling. "Huh. So I wasn't as low as I thought. Should be able to make it back now."

He was still leaning a bit too heavily on his uninjured leg, the heel of his left foot pulled up off the ground just enough that all the weight was focused in the pad and toes. Natasha wasn't sure how far away he lived, but she knew that he wouldn't make it a block without limping.

"Are you sure you'll be okay walking back?" It seemed that Steve, too, had his reservations about Kelley's decision. "It's getting late."

Kelley looked over to the window, paling at the dusky twilight sky. "Late." He breathed the word like it was foreign to him. His expression grew increasingly worried, and he turned back to her and the others. "What time is it?"

Clint checked the tablet. "Little past five-fifteen. You got somewhere to be?"

The blood drained from Kelley's face. "I need to go. I need- I need to go right now." He started towards the door, stifling a yelp as his left heel hit the floor. When Steve got to his feet, he held a hand up to stop him. "Thanks for your help, but really—I need to go." Clumsy both from his injured ankle and the painfully obvious panic he was trying to hide, he nearly tripped over his own feet on the way out.

Steve looked back at Natasha and Clint. "He's going to take the stairs again, isn't he?"

"Yep." Clint didn't bother looking up from the tablet this time.

"Steve." Natasha made a pointed gesture in the direction of the door, getting to her feet. "He's going to hurt himself just getting to the lobby." Without waiting to check if he would follow, she walked out and headed towards the stairs. The air seemed dead once she entered the stairwell, drained of something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"If you have any sense of self-preservation, you'll stay right there."

Natasha looked down at him where he stood four steps below her. "And why is that? You look pretty harmless to me." With his hand clutching the railing, knuckles bone-white from the pressure, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched as if he were in pain, he didn't look like he could be a threat to a kitten.

Kelley released the railing and held up his right hand as he turned around to give her a better view of the electricity bleeding from the air into his skin. "My reserve is almost empty, and if you get any closer, I can't guarantee I won't try to drain you. I can't control myself when I'm this low."

He was a mutant. Either that, or he'd gained powers through some artificial means.

"I really don't have time to explain. I need to leave before he kills me." His gaze was focused on the door behind her, like he knew Steve probably followed her. "I'm already pushing it; for all I know, he's home already." The panic in his expression melted into horror while he considered the possibility. "God, he's gonna burn down the apartment. This was a terrible idea. Shit. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna kill me." Turning so sharply on his heel that Natasha was afraid he might break it, he took the steps two at a time. "Sorry!" He threw the word over his shoulder at her.

"Kelley!" It was at that exact moment Steve entered the stairwell, and she almost sighed at his impeccable timing.

Walking back towards the door, she clapped him on the shoulder. "Too little, too late, big guy. C'mon. Tony should be back soon, and then we'll get answers."

When they reentered the penthouse, they found Bruce leaning over the back of the couch, some sort of scanner in one hand, while he talked with Clint. Every few sentences, Clint had to stop him and remind him to speak clearly, to which Bruce apologized and repeated himself before his mouth got ahead of his mind again and in turn started the cycle over.

Natasha cleared her throat.

Bruce looked up. "Our electricity consumption spiked," he said, the question clear in his tone.

"That would be Kelley. He just left." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve's face light up in surprise. She ignored it. Right now, she was more interested in how much Kelley's powers had affected the tower's electricity consumption. "How much did it spike?"

After a brief pause to check his scanner, Bruce replied, "Almost six hundred kilowatts in the last half-hour. What does our new friend have to do with it?"

Natasha took note of the distaste in his voice on the words, 'new friend.' He was always on edge at the possibility of more people in the penthouse, likely due to his time on the run before the Loki incident. "We'll find out when Tony gets back. Kelley was here to see him."

"He has powers?" Steve blurted, unable to hold back his surprise any longer. He appeared to think back, and after a few moments, he nodded to himself. "Actually, that would explain why he didn't want anybody to touch him."

"And how his ankle healed so quickly," Clint added. "Even if it was only partially."

Bruce thought about this new information. He tapped the scanner against the back of the couch. "Tony has a lot of explaining to do."


	5. Chapter 5

"Keep it together." Kelley dug his nails into his palms and jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. It had taken longer than expected to get down the stairs, but thankfully, just as he'd wanted, he hadn't run into anyone. "Keep it together. Keep it together." The air was alive with electricity all around him, but it was artificial, and he couldn't help feeling repulsed as it seeped through his exposed skin. It felt wrong. It felt unnatural. It felt disgusting.

Bioelectricity sustained him longer and didn't leave that peculiar taste in his mouth when his body used it up. Bioelectricity, however, only came from living things, and with how poor his control over his powers was right now, he could only get it safely from Avery. Which was why he found himself staring at the door to the lobby, trying to distance himself from the growing ache in his core. He could sense the people on the other side of that door. He could sense their bioelectricity, and god, he was starving.

"Keep it together," he said again. The words were a mantra, forced through gritted teeth to keep him from losing what little restraint he had left. He could make it through the lobby if they didn't come close. All he had to do was stifle the ache.

He walked out the door with his head down, doing his absolute best to focus on his feet instead of the pulse of bioelectricity to his left where the receptionist sat at her desk. The door was only a few steps away from it. He could make it. He just needed to concentrate.

"Did you discuss what you needed to with Mr. Stark?"

On instinct, he turned towards the voice and looked up. The more he tried to focus on the receptionist and the person by her, the more their outlines blurred. It wasn't them he was seeing anymore; it was the electrical impulses flowing beneath their skin. "He wasn't…" The _need_ was so unbearable that he almost stopped fighting it. A quick shake of his head to dispel the notion, and he dug his nails deeper into his palms. He had to get out of here before he hurt someone. "He wasn't there. But I got what I needed." He turned back towards the door and kept walking, muttering to himself, "Keep it together. You're almost out."

Thankfully, there were no more interruptions before he could get outside. Problem three: solved.

That still left problems one and two: explaining this to Avery without breaking down and getting home without hurting anyone.

It took a minute to remember which way he needed to go, but once that was sorted out, he worked on clearing his head of everything except how to get home. His still-healing ankle didn't matter. His almost empty reserve didn't matter. The dropping temperature didn't matter. The sticky, humid air didn't matter.

Nothing mattered except getting back to the apartment.

Hugging the curb as he limped along, Kelley prayed that he still had the energy to at least get as far as their neighborhood.

"You know, wandering off like this is just going to make him shorten your leash."

He froze in place. "I didn't wander off." The objection came out choked, and he resisted the compulsion to look around for Angel Dust. She would show her face soon enough—if he managed to see her before he wound up on the ground. "I'm actually heading back. You and your girlfriend can leave me alone."

Ajax yanked on Kelley's ponytail to make him look up. "Kid, you're limping. I may not know much about your powers yet, but I can tell that you'll never make it all the way back in this state. So how about you make it easier on everyone and just come along quietly?" He was wearing the longer gloves—the insulated ones that prevented him from losing any bioelectricity to Kelley's powers.

Kelley gave him a little shove and began walking past him, snatching his hand back to his body as quickly as he could before he got himself in more trouble by trying to drain Ajax. "I'll get back on my own. I don't need your help." He was reluctant to call it help, though, considering last time.

No sooner had he finished his sentence than his bad ankle was kicked out from under him and he landed hard on his side. As he started to roll onto his back, wheezing from the impact, Angel Dust gave him a helping boot and planted her foot on his chest. "I really thought he would have gotten bored by now." She crouched, centering her weight on the heel that was pressed against his breastbone. "I don't think I'll ever understand what keeps him so interested in you."

Not bothering to try to push her off, he scrabbled at his jacket pocket for the tactical knife he'd stolen from Avery. A quick slice across the back of her leg might make her leave him alone. Maybe. He hoped.

Angel Dust didn't let him get even that far. She pinned his wrist to the concrete. "Don't even think about it."

"Is he going to stay still this time?" Ajax knelt beside her, pulling a medical syringe and needle from the pocket of his cargo pants. When she replied, saying that it was unlikely, he shook his head almost sadly and affixed the needle. "You'd think he would have learned."

Kelley strained against Angel Dust, scrambling to get away from the anesthetic injection he knew was coming. "Okay, I'll cooperate! Get off me, I'll-" He stopped short and bit his lip to stifle the yelp as Ajax jabbed the needle into the muscles at the base of his neck. The dizziness was almost instant. Black crept at the edges of his vision, and everything went out of focus.

Angel Dust took her foot off his chest, pulling him up by the collar of his letterman jacket.

Just like that, the anesthetic finished kicking in, and he was gone.

Slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, Kelley waited for the inevitable scolding. They'd been sitting at the table in silence since he came to almost a half hour ago, Avery with his face buried in his hands, Kelly numbly nursing a mug of coffee. Avery hadn't said a word to him after the gruff, "Here," he'd offered upon shoving the mug into his hands.

"I can't believe you. I left you alone for two hours, and this is what you've done?"

There it was. Kelley kept his gaze trained on his drink, letting the warmth sink into his hands.

Avery grabbed his chin and dug his fingers into the sensitive nerves behind the jaw. "I trusted you." His voice trembled, the anger beneath the words biting. There was electricity coiled beneath his skin, built up to dangerous levels. Kelley knew that he was just barely holding it back. If he wanted to, he could have burned down the entire apartment complex. "You completely ignored the one thing I told you not to do. How are you going to make it up to me?"

"He wasn't even there," Kelley replied, taking care not to spill his coffee as he took a sip. "Calm down, babe." If he didn't talk, Avery would keep pushing and pushing until he gave in and gave him what he was asking for. It was better to say something and be sarcastic than say nothing and be manipulated.

"Don't be a smartass. I was trying to keep you safe." Avery released his jaw, settling back in the chair and stealing Kelley's mug for a quick drink.

Kelley felt his blood boil at the implications of that statement. This wasn't his fault. He had been trying to help them both out by looking for new ways to control his powers. "And how did that work out? Real fan-fucking-tastic, huh?" he snarled, turning away as he got up. His hands shook. He wanted to lash out—to break something and get this fight over with. "Unless your idea of keeping me safe is having your sister try to break my ankle and Ajax drug me in the middle of the street."

"You better watch your mouth, sweetheart, 'cause I'm running short on patience after that stunt of yours." The restrained fury in his voice was hard to miss. After a moment, he sighed, reaching out to turn Kelley's face back towards him. He gave a little smirk and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Come on, I think we've had enough discussion for now. Let's go to bed."

It was tempting to melt into the touch, lose himself in the much-needed electricity Avery offered, and let all of this go, but he couldn't do that tonight. Kelley pulled away. "We've been stalled on how to control my absorption for months, so I thought it might be helpful to ask someone who actually has the resources to figure it out." He took a second to consider the torrent of emotions flitting across his boyfriend's face. No turning back now. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and met Avery's electric gaze. "I'm sick and tired of being death sentence to anyone I get near. I love you, and I'm so grateful you took me in, but I want to be able to touch people other than you without being afraid I'll kill them."

Avery tilted his head to one side, like he wasn't sure he'd heard right. Still, he was silent.

"I'm sorry I made you worry. I really am, but if you want me to apologize for trying to understand my powers, then you are shit out of luck." Unthinkingly, Kelley backed up when Avery got to his feet, and his breath caught in the back of his throat. No. This was a mistake. He should have kept his mouth shut and gone to bed. He was still a bit dazed from the anesthetic; maybe he could claim that had caused his outburst. "I… I didn't-"

Avery kissed him suddenly enough to catch him off balance. It was aggressive, needy, and painful. He snatched at the front of Avery's shirt to steady himself, knotting his fingers in the fabric, afraid Avery would let him fall if he let go. His feet successfully back under him, he pulled back from the kiss, releasing Avery's shirt to push the hand off his hip. "No!"

"I'm sorry?" Avery sounded baffled.

"Don't touch me." Kelley couldn't believe the words leaving his mouth. "I don't want you to touch me right now. Leave me alone."

"Fine." Stepping back, Avery smoothed out the front of his shirt. "Goodnight, Kelley." He turned and started for the bedroom.

The door slammed shut behind him.

"That went… well." The bitterness in his voice surprised him. Still taking it in, he wandered to the fridge to get a beer and sank to the floor as soon as he had it in his hand. Out of habit, he wiped his cheek with the back of one hand.

At times like this, he really wished that Avery kept something stronger than Heineken around the apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

Sliding the bottle across the counter to Kelley, Paige shook her head at how he let it reach the edge before catching it. "If you drop that, you're cleaning up the glass." He didn't pay attention, instead staring at the TV they always had running before opening. The Yankees had just beaten the Royals ten to seven in a home game, and they were getting ready to air an exclusive interview with the Yankee's shortstop, Dawson McKay.

Kelley downed half the bottle of scotch in one swig and set it back on the bar. His hands were unsteady—a product of the three beers and two bottles of whiskey he'd had already. "Why am I not drunk yet?"

"You're a mutant with a fucking healing factor. It takes a lot to get you drunk. We've had this conversation before."

One hand on the bottle, the other resting on the back of his neck, he put his head down on the counter with a dull thunk.

Hunter slid onto the stool beside him, leaning in just enough for Kelley to feel that his personal space was being violated, and tapped his fingers rhythmically against the bar counter. Paige rolled her eyes and handed him his favorite apple pie moonshine. They kept a lot of different types of alcohol behind the counter, but not all of it was for customers. A sleazy grin split Hunter's lips, and he lifted the glass in appreciation before turning back to Kelley. "How's our resident moody teenager doing?" he asked.

"I'm not moody." Kelley picked his head up off the counter, snatched the bottle back to his chest, and turned his back to Hunter.

"He says, moodily."

Shoulders stiff, Kelley huffed. "Fuck off," he said, staring at the TV with an almost dazed expression playing on his face. He always seemed off during baseball season, particularly when the Yankees were involved. "Why don't you go light yourself on fire?"

"As fun as that would be," Hunter admitted as he examined his oil-stained hands, "you know I ain't allowed to start fires at work. Why are you so pissy?"

"I'm not pissy!"

Hunter bumped him with the glass, his drawn out, "Sure," inciting a half-hearted glare from Raven across the club.

"I don't wanna talk about it." He had flinched when the glass touched his arm, his expression twisted into something Paige couldn't even describe beyond clearly being uncomfortable. Nearly choking on the remainder of the scotch, he continued staring at the TV.

Dawson McKay had a framed photo face-down in his lap, one hand resting on it protectively. The interviewer asked about it almost immediately, and Dawson shifted in his seat before explaining that he'd never talked about his little brother on air before. He looked down at the photo with a weary smile and opened his mouth to explain.

The crash from Kelley's bottle hitting the floor drew everyone's attention away from the TV. His entire frame trembled. "Turn that shit off," he spat through his teeth.

Paige reached over to flip the TV off. "I told you if you dropped that bottle, you're picking up the glass." When she handed him the dustpan and broom, he didn't reply, and she scoffed. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You're avoiding Avery like the plague, and you're throwing a fit because you're not drunk yet. Last time you were like this-"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it, Paige!" There was an edge to his voice that scared her. It wasn't the usual dejected but ultimately resigned tone he took on after he and Avery fought. He actually sounded angry this time, frustration seeping from every word he spoke. She lifted her sunglasses to get a better look at his face.

He'd been crying. The skin around his eyes was still puffy and red, his cheeks cut through by dried tear tracks. Electric blue irises stood out against eyes still slightly bloodshot.

She jumped over the bar, took the broom from him, and whispered, "I'll get the glass. Go hang out in the back for tonight. I'll bring you another drink before opening."

Before he could acknowledge that she'd spoken, Raven knelt beside them, having finished her set list for the night. "Sparky, we all know what happened." She carefully brushed his hair back from his face. "You really think Avery keeps this shit from us?"

He shifted into a sitting position and pointedly looked at his feet.

Hunter nudged him with a boot, humming affectionately at Kelley's indignant huff. "C'mon, kiddo," he drawled, Texan accent having grown more prominent since his first sip of moonshine. Paige regretted ever deciding to stock her bar with the godforsaken stuff. It only made him more persistent in asking for things. "So ya fucked up and made a bit of an ass outta yourself. No need to raise hell about it."

"Can you blame me? None of you fucking get it." Shaking, he stared at his hands as if afraid he'd see blood on them. After nine years, he was still as closed off as the day they met him. Something had happened before Avery found him, but no amount of concerned probing would get him to talk about it. Paige and Raven had learned that within a week. Hunter still thought he had a shot. "You guys—you have a choice. I can't turn it off. I thought maybe someone with the resour-"

"I thought we finished this conversation earlier." Avery's stern voice interrupted him, and his breathing immediately grew ragged.

Paige reached out to pull Kelley away, only stopping short when she remembered the 'No Skin Contact' rule. She exchanged a look with Raven, who shuffled away before fixing her gaze on the ground. Hunter had fallen silent as well. "Avery," she said after a moment, careful to keep her voice steady, "he's drunk. You know how he gets."

Kelley stayed quiet as he was pulled to his feet. A pitiful glance at the trio, and he turned around to offer Avery a soft, placating kiss.

Avery tangled his fingers in Kelley's hair as he kissed back, bringing him close to his chest. When he ended the kiss, he looked down at Paige. "I thought I made it clear that I don't want you three riling him up about it again." He stepped around Kelley to crouch just enough so he could whisper into her ear, "And you know better than to ignore me when I give you an order. Don't you? Or do you want to go back?"

"No."

"No what?" He leaned closer, electricity arcing from his fingertips to the floor. His expression stayed neutral even as his voice dropped into a menacing growl. "I asked two questions. No, you don't know better? Or no, you don't want to go back to the Weapon Plus facility I found you in?"

She shook her head, turning to Raven for help. Raven remained staring at the floor.

Grabbing her jaw and forcing her head up, Avery continued, "I asked you, not Raven."

"No, I don't want to go back."

"That's what I thought." He let go and stood up. Without another word, threw Kelley over his shoulder like a particularly unruly toddler, and walked to the back.

Paige, Raven, and Hunter stayed silent, straining to hear any sounds of a struggle, but the club was as quiet as they were. They were almost afraid to move. It was no secret that Avery had a temper almost as explosive as his powers. Everyone faced his anger every so often, but Kelley got the brunt of it.

Avery returned to the front a bit later, wiping half-dried blood from his nose and upper lip. The disgust radiating from him was palpable, and the slight sneer curling his mouth made it clear they shouldn't ask what happened in the back or if Kelley was okay.

A sharp clap on the back drew her attention away from Avery. Paige looked over to see Hunter stand up and jerk his head at the doors.

"I'm goin' out for a smoke," he announced, waiting for the stiff nod of acknowledgement to indicate it was alright. "Paige, Raven?"

They followed him outside and settled on the bench by the door. Hunter lit a match, prompting Raven to smack his arm and playfully remind him that he wasn't allowed to start fires at work. He took it in stride, as he had for as long as they'd known him, sticking the match head in his mouth to extinguish it. After a minute, he lit a cigarette and passed the freshly-opened box over to Paige. He would smoke the rest after she took what she wanted.

Paige supposed that was one of the benefits of being immune to smoke. Unfortunately, she didn't have that power, but it didn't really matter much to her. She took two cigs and stuck them in her pocket for later.

Raven spoke first. "You think he's okay?" Her face was obscured by the hood of her jacket, pulled up to protect herself from the growing chill.

"You're kidding, right?" Hunter asked around his cigarette. He removed it and blew out a thin stream of smoke. Even after nearly a decade, he still didn't inhale properly, Paige noted. She tried not to focus on what he was saying. It would help her sleep if she pretended she didn't hear it. "You saw the blood on Avery's face." He paused, lowering his voice after a nervous glance at the open door. "Poor kid probably got his ass beat."

Knotting her fingers in her jeans, Paige bit her lip. The others kept talking in hushed voices. She shakily lit one of the cigarettes Hunter had given her and drew in enough smoke on her first inhale to make her cough. After the nicotine hit, she calmed down enough to snap, "Stop it, both of you! Avery wouldn't hurt him." That was a lie. She'd caught the kid crying in the back with bruises on his wrists and face more than once. "He's not a monster."

"Yeah." Raven put her hood down. Her dark skin was almost golden under the light from the streetlamps. "We're lucky he took us in."

Hunter scoffed. "Don't start with that shit again. He ain't got nothin' on me."

"Good for you, Freakshow." Paige almost wished he could see her rolling her eyes. He knew that he was the only one who wanted to be here. He knew he was the only one who joined the Network because he chose to. "Meanwhile, the rest of us would rather die than go back to where we were when he found us. We owe him our fucking lives."

Raven elbowed her in the side. "Look." She pointed to the silver Audi pulling up.

Paige pulled down her shades to get a better look at the car. Not many supercars showed up in this part of Brooklyn.

A slight chuckle to her left and the click of a lighter meant Hunter finally found something to amuse him. "Someone's looking for trouble."


	7. Chapter 7

**Content Warning: emotional manipulation, assault**

* * *

Dumping Kelley onto the floor in the back, he knelt so that they were on eye-level. "Sweetheart, look at me. Come on, I just wanna talk." The kid's lower lip was bruised and swollen just off-center, and it trembled while he fought to keep looking away. Barely visible above the wide straps of his tank-top sat the dark dot from the ketamine injection the previous day. Dried tear-tracks marked his face. Avery rested his hand on Kelley's cheek, waiting for him to lean into the touch. "You know why I didn't want you talking about it, especially with them. Remember last time?" He laughed—soft, short, and fond. Kelley brought a hand up to cover his, turning his face into the palm.

"I thought he could help me."

"I know," he murmured, brushing his free hand through Kelley's hair. "I know. But you have to trust me."

Kelley made a noise of protest at the statement, probably thinking about the business card and the offer to talk. He didn't move his face from where it rested in Avery's palm.

Avery leaned closer to him. He dropped the hand sitting on Kelley's face, planting it by the other, which rested beside the kid's hips on the floor. "It's not you he cares about, Kelley. You really think that billionaire scientist and engineer Anthony Stark would care at all about some skinny little kid from Brooklyn if it weren't for his powers?" His skin sparked, but that was the only outward indication of his anger. He pressed on, grabbing at Kelley's wrists to keep him still when he tried to scoot away. "The only reason someone like him would ever _look_ at you is because they want to use you. You may not like it, but I know better than you do. I'm older, and I've dealt with people like him my entire life. Don't let the sweet talk and pretty-boy philanthropist act fool you; if you let him get close, he will turn you into a weapon."

"No." The word came out as more of a breath.

"No human is ever going to want you for anything more than your powers," Avery said, fighting to keep the electricity contained beneath his skin so that he didn't catch something on fire again. "I did not save you just to have you go running off the first time a human is vaguely nice to you like a lamb to slaughter. You owe me your life, and you will not throw it away like this."

Kelley set his jaw, the look of disbelief and horror fading into one of frustration. "Stop talking like you own me!" He tore his hands free and got up. The ends of his ponytail started standing on end, and electricity pulsed beneath his skin. "If I think someone else can help me more than you can, then it should be my choice whether I let them or not. Just because you saved me, that doesn't mean I have to obey you!"

Hands curled into fists on the floor, head bowed, lips pressed into a tight smile, Avery took a moment to steady his breathing before he gestured at Kelley's hip. The Network's trademark skull and infinity sign barely showed above his belt, but there was no hiding it. "Everyone who wears that tattoo belongs to me." He loosened his hold on the electricity, letting it arc across his skin as he stood. If Kelley wanted to play this game, then he wouldn't hold back. "The instant someone sees it, they will know that you belong to me, and they will bring you back here. I tried to reason with you, but you're just being stupid right now!"

He'd backed Kelley into a wall, his right hand at the base of the kid's neck, nails dug in deep enough to break the skin. The arcs of electricity grew, some jumping to ground from all over his body while others withered as they contacted Kelley's skin.

They stood there, blue eyes ablaze, daring each other to make the first move.

Then Avery staggered back a step, clutching at his face. Blood ran into his mouth, and pain shot through the bridge of his nose. Kelley had hit him while pushing his hand off his neck.

Breathing ragged, Kelley stretched his hand out as if to wipe the blood away but stopped short. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It was an accident. It was just reflex. You were hurting me, and I didn't mean to- Please don't be mad, I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice choked. "I'm sorry. It was an accident. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Avery wasn't listening, instead staring at him in disbelief. He swallowed the blood that had run into his mouth and wiped the rest off his face.

"I didn't mean to, I swear!"

His vision clouded, and his mind went blank. When the fog cleared, Kelley was on the floor, blood running down his chin and neck from where his lip had split open, a bright, angry electrical burn wrapping down his left arm. It would heal in the next few days, they both knew, but that didn't stop Kelley from crying out in pain. Crouching to inspect the contact points, he paused as he considered the sheer amount of electricity needed to burn a mutant whose entire physiology was designed to absorb it without harming him.

No, he told himself, it was better not to dwell on it.

"Get cleaned up," he ordered as he pulled Kelley to his feet. "You know where Hunter keeps the first-aid kit. And stay back here when you're done; I don't want questions."

Kelley's breath still came in gasps, right hand holding the collar of his tank top over the split in his lower lip to stifle the bleeding. He let go of the fabric to pull his injured arm to his chest, keeping an eye on Avery as he retreated to gather the first-aid items.

Once back out front, he wiped the blood he'd missed the first time off his face. He gave a stiff nod when Hunter said he was going outside to smoke, and for the first time he caught a glimpse of his injury in the mirror behind the bar counter. Surprised, he stopped, turning his head from left to right as he inspected it. There was bruising to the left of his nose, just under his eye, and there was a slight bend to the right at the bridge. A light touch to the edge of the bruise had him suck in a breath through his teeth.

Yep, definitely broken.

The club would be opening in a little less than an hour. His healing factor was impressive, even by mutant standards, but he still couldn't heal this much in so little time. Makeup it was.

Raven usually kept some foundation and concealer tucked away behind her sound booth, in case someone—namely Hunter—picked a fight they weren't ready for. He wandered over, taking the opportunity to scan through her set list and delete a few before grabbing the concealer closest to his skin tone. Applying makeup without a mirror had never been his strong suit, so he headed to the back.

Once he opened the door, there was a bit of panicked shuffling, and he looked over to find that Kelley was still working on wrapping his arm. The gauze was loose and crossed over itself, barely touching the skin in some places. Kelley gingerly pulled his arm back to his chest with a wide-eyed stare.

Shaking his head, Avery beckoned the kid over to him. "You're doing it wrong." He set the makeup down, sat on the table nearest to him, and patted the space next to him. Kelley continued staring. "I'll fix it; come here. You're so messy with this stuff."

Head down, tentative, Kelley sat next to him on the table. He was silent as he offered his wrapped arm for Avery to fix. He'd taken off his shirt, presumably because of the blood on it from the split in his lip, and up close, the fading bruise on his chest where Angel Dust had pinned him was obvious, as were the fresh, still-growing bruises on his side. "It's hard doing things alone," he said at last. His head was still down.

"I know, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry I pushed it. I know you told me no for a reason."

As he finished re-wrapping the burn, Avery scooted closer to him and tried to make eye contact. "It's okay. I forgive you. I know how silly you can be sometimes." He tucked the end of the wrap through the last loop to secure it. Until they got home and found a fastener, it would do. Hopefully tonight would be the last resurfacing of Kelley's defiant streak. The electrical burn and split lip seemed to have pushed him back to his pre-Stark self already.

Kelley looked back up, reaching out to lay his fingertips on Avery's cheekbone. His eyes narrowed while he inspected the damage he'd done. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, a tremor went through his body, and he bit his lip lightly.

Avery pushed Kelley's hand away and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "I have a better healing factor than you," he said. "I'll be okay. You just messed up. That's all."

"Don't leave me." The plea was so quiet that it barely registered in his hearing.

"I saved you, remember? Eleven years ago, you were just a street kid running away from everything, and now look how far you've come." He cupped Kelley's face with one hand and stroked his hair with the other. "You're so much better now. You don't need anyone else's help; you have me. You don't need anything else, trust me."


End file.
